


Death Holds no Dominion

by Anonymous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hayloft AU, Highschool AU, M/M, Murder later, TW for homophobia and racism, bigoted language and actions, its period appropriate but still, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: How the 17-year-old Will Graham becomes a murderer.---Will Graham lives in a small town with his Pa on a farm, causing minute trouble and diving headfirst into his town's crimes. It starts with a new bus stop and ends in hellfire.---Inspired by the song Hayloft by Mother Mother
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61
Collections: Anonymous





	Death Holds no Dominion

It takes Will 20 minutes to walk from his house to the bus stop at the edge of the property. He’d tried convincing his Pa at least 100 times to drive him up with the tractor but he always got a firm “no.”

So there he stood in the just-dawn sun, twiddling with the worn leather of his belt with one hand as he held a book with the other, waiting for the bus to show.

This morning’s book was “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and he remembered the distaste the librarian had shot his way when he checked it out. Small towns tended to hold older beliefs- if the lack of darker-skinned people in town held any proof.

Will- however- did not hold such prejudice. He found himself too sympathetic for that and instead sought out ways to piss off the townsfolk who held such hate in them- though he mainly pissed off his Pa.

Elijah Graham was a traditional man, even after his wife died he held to traditions. When he caught Will trying on his mother’s dresses when he was 5, he handed him a gun and made him shoot a bottle for every dress he tried on- Will didn’t touch them again. Elijah Graham made Will fix the tractors and plant the seeds and butcher the chickens- only after he did all that would he make him cook dinner afterward.

Will always told Pa, “Cooking doesn’t make you any less of a man Pa.”

Pa never listened directly, but would make Will clean the house the next day on top of his normal chores as a comeback, sort of a “You think it won’t make ya girly? Here, do the women’s job and your job,” which Will thought to be a fault in his logic but never mentioned.

There wasn’t a day that went by that Will didn’t feel sympathy for his father’s lack of self-assurance- and for that matter, he felt it for the whole town.

That sympathy for the whole town didn’t circle back to him- however.

So as Will stood leaning against the signpost near the road and heard the rumble of the bus and saw the dirt mist the air as it arrived- he dreaded the treatment he’d receive on the bus.

The bus stops in front of him, air releases from it as the doors swing open with a squeak. 

He tucks the book under his arm and steps forward, nodding his thanks to the bus driver as he stares at the floor to make his way to an empty seat. 

The bus lurches forward before he even sits, and he swings into a seat, hitting his shoulder on the wall. Will doesn’t bother with a seatbelt, instead taking his book out from under his arm and opening it, adjusting his glasses in the process.

After Will had cried in 4th grade after hearing about a woman being killed in the town over (more importantly, he saw himself killing her but didn’t tell anyone), real gruesome like too, the entire town spread rumors of various ongoings in Wills life.

Kids would say he was a queer and wore makeup and got his hair permed. The last two simply false, the first one something Will has been dreading coming to the conclusion of since he was 8- lest Pa kicks him out and make him sleep in the barn again.

But, the bus usually isn’t as bad in the morning, so his reading goes undisturbed until the teens around him start muttering in tandem. 

He peaks up to see the bus turning to a new area- a new stop added to its route.

It stops at the end of a trail that leads to the city's orphanage, 3 kids stand by a fence post at the front. 

Will doesn’t bother to pay anymore attention, instead returning to the dialogue in front of him.

“ “It’s an easy question, Miss Mayella, so I’ll try again. Do you remember him beating you about the face?” Atticus’s voice had lost its comfortableness; he was speaking in his arid, detached professional voice. “Do you remember him-” ”

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he tears his gaze from the book, staring at the kid in front of him’s shoes.

“Can I sit here?” Comes a voice with a lisp of an accent that Will can’t place even if he was city-folk from New York, he’s sure.

“Uh- yeah. Go ahead,” Will replies real curt, dragging his bag onto his lap and squeezing as close to the window as possible.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Will rummages through his head- TV programs, Radio shows, in-class documentaries, but he can’t place his accent.

Will is in no mood for talking, though, and would rather read his book- thankfully he seems to understand the sentiment and takes a book out of his own bag. And though Will won't ask him what the book is, he has his own curiosity, he peeks over to see the cover of the book, barely catches a glimpse but it looks old and battered and he can’t figure out the name for the life of him.

Too much about this kid that Will can’t immediately dissect- Will decides, and thinks to himself he won't be talking to him- call him petty.

“It’s Book 1 of Dante's Divine Comedy, Inferno,” the kid mumbles, pulling the ribbon out of its spot to continue where he left off.

Will nods and turns back to his own book, a little frazzled that he was caught staring, though he’s not sure how he caught him.

“What book do you have?” He asks.

Will closes it with his thumb on his page, tilting it so he can see with a silent huff of knowing.

The other kid nods, seemingly appreciative of the choice in book, Will blinks in response.

“Did you receive criticism for your book choice? You seem hesitant to show me” He asks.

Will scrunches his brows, “Uh, not many people in this town like it, real old school folk. You new here?”

Will already knows the answer is yes, but asks to be polite because he can’t afford another bully.

The kid nods, flipping the page, "Yes, I'm from France."

Will glances over, confused, “I thought French people sounded- well, French. Are you from a small town?”

Will was from Louisiana, he knew what French sounded like- but just a little.

The blond clicks his tongue, “Ah, no. I lived in Lithuania originally, then France.”

That makes more sense to Will, and he nods- returning to his book. 

The rest of the bus ride is quiet in their seat, and as the bus lurches to a stop once more Will closes his book, shoving it into his bag.

They both stand and wait for the students to file out, step down the steps that make the bus lean forward a little, and Wills seat-buddy stops in front of the bus. 

He holds out a hand, well-manicured and the opposite of what Will expects an orphan’s hand to look like. His fingernails are short and smooth and his hands completely void of calluses, his hands look like he’s never done labor but something about him that Will can’t pin begs to differ.

“I’m Hannibal Lecter,” He says and breaks Will from his thoughts.

Will forces himself to make eye contact and is met with maroon, heavy-lidded eyes. He clasps their hands together and forces a smile, met with what seems like a real one from the other boy.

“Will Graham,” Will mutters.

Hannibal lets out the faintest chuckle and retracts his hand, adjusting his satchel.

“Do you know where Mrs. Hannstons is?” Hannibal asks.

Will nods, “Uh- Yeah, do you want me to walk you there?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Will shrugs and starts walking, assuming Hannibal is following him into the building in front of them. 

The crowd of teenagers is one that Will Graham is very familiar with. So is the smell of too much yet simultaneously not enough cologne. 

Farm-town living is boring, this Hannibal will learn soon, if he hasn’t already been slapped with the monochrome taste of the town yet. The town hooker is the most exciting thing about it and everyone knows everything about her- so even she’s as blank as cardstock.

Will turns his head back to make sure Hannibal is still behind him, only to find Hannibal is staring dead at him already- he turns his head around so fast he swears he hears it’s hinges creak. 

A kid stumbles in front of him and he spins on his heel to avoid making contact with him, sneering as he does, Hannibal seemingly doesn’t mind and steps away too.

The kid- Thomas Greene- stares at him then glances at Hannibal with a glare, before turning with a malicious smile.

Will knows a new rumor will be spread before nightfall.

Will stops in front of the classroom, “uh- here. Class doesn’t start for another bit though.”

Hannibal gives him that tight but loose smile, and Will can feel his eyes looking at him as though he’s a cat. 

“Thank you, Will. Will i see you at lunch?” He asks.

Will has decided he doesn’t particularly like Hannibal, “Probably not, i dont sit with everyone. Just like to sit alone and read.” 

Hannibal takes that as an acceptable reason to opt-out of eating

together and nods. 

“Very well, I suppose I’ll see you on the bus,” Hannibal makes his own compromise.

Will doesn’t tell him that he intends on walking home today, and instead nods.

The look of amusement on Hannibals face while he watched Will leave did not go unnoticed by Will.

* * *

Will eats lunch on his own under a tree, book in hand, and a bag of grapes on his lap, finishing chapter 19. 

Will didn’t sit by the tree very often, but considering he didn’t exactly love that Hannibal’s vibes- as hippy as that makes him sound- he decided today would be a good day for it. He doesn’t want to be around him more than he has to, which may include the bus ride.

Hannibal seemed… weird, for a lack of better words. Not explicitly dangerous, perverted or anything of the sort, but a little too formal, a little too open about what he wants (which Will normally appreciated), a little too polite and a little too put together to be an orphan- not that Will thinks he should dress in rags and be ashamed. It’s the lack of struggling Hannibal makes to socialize with him specifically that sticks out to him. 

There was no way that Hannibal didn’t pick up on the fact that nobody seemed to like Will. And though Will didn’t particularly like Hannibal, he wasn’t going to ruin his image before he got the chance to paint it.

He leers over the field to the lunch area, sees Hannibal talking to Leopold, uptight, snobby, popular, and the school's linebacker. He’s stood next to a sitting Hannibal near the water fountains.

Leopold smiles bold, slightly crooked but otherwise perfect teeth shining in the sun as he laughs- loud and genuine. 

Will darts his eyes over to Hannibal who wears a tight-lipped smile, amusement clear as day on his face, next to him Abigail stares at the two, awkward and still the odd one out, overly shy. Abigail isn’t rumored to be queer, isn’t an atheist or anything, but she’s shy as hell and reminds Will of a bird with her pointed nose and big eyes, always staring. 

He understands why people don’t like her, but he never held any distaste for her.

To Will, it seems like Hannibal is taking an immediate interest in the outcasts, despite clearly getting along with the more popular students.

Some part of his brain shoveled over with dirt whispers to him- calls to him like a mantra that Hannibal seems off.

Another part mumbles in hymns that Hannibal is just kind and wants to make friends.

Will isn’t sure which to believe but he understands that the hymns are sacred and should be honored, but contrarily, so should the body of thoughts under the dirt littered on his brain- and being from Louisiana, he’s a little inclined to believe the dead.

But the way Hannibal expects immediate interest in himself is what makes Will think something may be wrong- some people just get along better with the outcasts, but they usually aren’t well dressed and quick to make friends with two of the schools most disliked students.

Will curses as he reaches into his grapes only to grab a leaf from the tree- now they all have germs, great.

He tosses the bag in the garbage as he makes his way to his economics class.

His back hits the wall much harder than he had intended to as he drops his bag to the floor and slides down like sludge. 

The Shrike was a newer serial killer, from what he’d heard over the radio from Pa’s bedroom. They had only found one body, but the Sheriffs thought there were more because it was too clean. 

The body was found 30 minutes out of town if you walk, way back at the edge of the old Miller property- whose family used to own the grain mill until they went bankrupt during the depression

If the killer was smart then they’d know not to make it too close to home when dumping the body, and a 30 minute drive isn’t exactly close when it’s all backroads to fields with no traffic or lights. 

As Will saw it, the killer was either from here or the town over, anywhere else would be a long drive and he’d want the body gone as quickly as possible. And disposing of the body as quick as possible would 

1: probably take a pickup truck with the body in the bed unless they knew how to strip the inside of the car, 

And 2: Couldn’t be too far of a drive in the pickup, and the town over had no houses for miles

So if the (possible) serial killer was smart, they’d know to avoid people for as far as possible and to make the drive as short as possible but as devoid of people as possible- and since it’s on the Miller property they had take Grover street, which was also left abandoned after the depression when the street left for city life and the remainders moved closer to town.

The only problem with that is that the street is awfully close to the Sheriff's Department- so that would have been too risky- which the radio host had no problem with ignoring when Will listened.

It came off as though the Sheriffs thought he crossed through town, if Mrs. Davis talking to Officer Downes meant anything. 

Why would the killer go through town and why don’t the sheriffs think he went through the back of the property?

The bell to end lunch rings and Will chokes out a gasp and scrambles for his bag next to him, standing straight as the door to the classroom opens.

Mrs. Holly smiles at him with yellow teeth and red lipstick that needs to be reapplied.

He ducks his head and swoops into the classroom, making a beeline for his seat next to a window. 

Mrs. Holly’s class was one of the last funded and as a result got the leftover chemistry tables, so everyone sat 2 two a table except Will and a few other students. 

There’s a dull hum of the AC unit and the chatter of teenagers as they worm their way through the halls, Wills economics class slowly fills until the shriek of the bell rings in his ears.

Alana, shy but assertive with long brown hair, sits next to him and scoots her chair to take up a small part of the desk, he mirrors her. 

Will knew all he needed to know about economics from books and the radio, but moreover the class was mainly Mrs. Holly trying to talk over rowdy students and catching paperballs.

This- Will decided- was a class he could read in.

* * *

The bus ride home is loud, hot, and smells horrible.

Luckily, Will doesn’t have to endure it today.

He instead walks through crisp autumn leaves down a dirt road that leads back to the main part of town and then onto uneven sidewalks.

The stores were beginning to set up for halloween, and Will makes a mental note that the record store has Black Sabbath's Paranoid album- apparently not yet deemed inappropriate.

Will walks into Joe and Sally’s coffeehouse and digs into his pocket for money for a coffee.

The coffeehouse is yellow and red with those white accents everyone loved for some reason, booths lined the walls from it’s pre-coffeehouse era when it was still a diner. The floors are checkerboard and there was a juke-box against the left wall, currently playing Fleetwood Mac- Will wished they’d play something else every once in a while.

The cashier- a lovely woman named Debbie Lawner- smiles at him as he approaches the counter.

“You want your usual, honey?” She asks.

Will nods and Debbie turns to pour his cup of coffee, mixing in 2 tablespoons of sugar and a quarter cup of milk.

She turns to him again with a small smile- still trying to keep her customer service face as she tries to push the lid onto the cup but fails.

Will gently reaches his hand out for the lid and she hands it to him with an embarrassed look, he pops it on and reaches into his pocket to hand her the dollar fifty for the coffee.

“Thank you, darlin’. Sorry, my hands are a little fragile these days,” she tells him as she counts the dimes and tucks them into the register.

“ ‘s okay, have a nice day, Ma’am,” he tells her, shooting a shy smile to her.

“You too, tell your Pa I said hi.”

“Will do,” He mumbles, turning to leave.

“Oh! Will, I gotta question,” she calls as his hand grabs the door handle.

This is why he didn’t particularly love it when it was her shift- she always held him up.

“Yes?” He replies, turning to face her.

“There’s a murder on the Miller property, and I know you live not too far off from there,” she starts.

Will, infact, did not live close- but wasn’t going to correct her.

“Stay safe, won't you? I know a lot folk in this town don’t like you because of some dumb rumors that probably aint true, but i care ‘bout you and your Pa.”

Will remembers when Debbie babysat him once when he was 8 and first got to town, her dementia had kicked in quite a bit since then, it appears.

“I will Mrs. Lawner, have a good day,” He lies.

She smiles, “You too, now run on home.”

He leaves in silence, listening to the bell jingle behind him.

Will swallows a mouthful of coffee and readjusts his bag, turning the corner on Mulberry Street to make his way to the Miller property.

“Why don’t they think he went in through the back…” he mutters.

Will has loved mysteries ever since he read A Study in Scarlet, and Pa has always told him he looks for trouble, time to prove him right and the Sheriff wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.  
> Though I do have this mapped out, y'all can help me figure out if I need to change anything, so please leave any feedback you have, even if it's not particularly positive :)


End file.
